Sanctuary in Potions
by zarah joyce
Summary: When Hogwarts announced their need for a new Potions professor, Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger were deemed best for it. Each was desperate to have the job, and since there's only room for one of them… chaos inevitably erupts. Updated! Chapter 6 up!
1. Default Chapter

**Summary: **When Hogwarts announced their need for a new Potions professor, Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger were deemed best for the job. Each was desperate to have the job, for different reasons, and since there's only room for one of them… chaos inevitably erupts. DM/HG with hints of RW/PP.

Sanctuary in Potions

Chapter One: That Mysterious Ad in the Daily Prophet

_-_

_ACCOUNT NUMBER 32-7493-91_

_This is in response to the request of client number 3425 for the total amount in vaults 3 – 2937. _

_This letter affirms that vaults 3 – 2937 contain exactly ---- Galleons (no Sickles and Knuts). _

Draco tapped his wand against the receipt, and frowned as a numerical figure appeared on the blank. He cursed, crumpled the paper angrily, and threw it in the nearest garbage bin.

Blast it. The dismal amount of money he had left in the bank wasn't exactly comforting. In fact, it was downright depressing. At this rate, he might have to find a job to support himself… his face contorted in disgust at the thought of _him _working for someone else, but… desperate times called for desperate measures. He knew his pride would suffer greatly for this, but he also knew his pride couldn't pay the bills, let alone feed him. Swallowing it would be the hardest thing he had to do in his life, but if he didn't then the day would come when he'd be forced out of his pad and thrown onto the streets. How would he survive, then?

Huh. Who would've thought? A _Malfoy _living through scraps of food and alms from others?

_Well, _he reflected, sinking on his luxurious couch, _I could always ask Mother to transfer some of Father's money to my account. _

_And maybe afterwards I could go for a drink then throw myself in front of the Hogwarts Train. _

_Of course _he wouldn't ask for anything from his mother! What sane, capable 28-year old man would do such a despicable, shameless thing? He'd be swallowing his pride, not entirely _flushing _it out of his system!

Spying the newest edition of _The Daily Prophet _on his desk, he grabbed it, ignored the front page picture of his mother gaping at him with horror-filled eyes, and started to rummage through the classified ads section.

Huh. Who would've thought? A _Malfoy _looking for a job?

His father, his uncles, and the rest of the deceased Malfoy clan _must_ be turning over their graves right now. _May Merlin rest their putrid, pathetic souls in their putrid, pathetic graves._

"Let's see," he murmured, as he let his finger do the scanning. "_Dragon tamer – report to Charlie Weasley. _Right. Me, working for a Weasley? Maybe when hell flipped open." Draco immediately turned to the one below it. "_Ministry of Magic Official Runes Translator – _probably." He took a quill and underlined this one once. Draco continued searching, and after a few seconds he smiled.

He found it. _The _perfect job.

HOGWARTS IN NEED OF A POTIONS PROFESSOR.

MUST BE WELL-EDUCATED, PREFERABLY AN ALUMNUS/ALUMNA, ADEPT IN MAKING POTIONS AND TEACHING.

INTERESTED INDIVIDUALS MAY CONTACT SEVERUS SNAPE THROUGH (FLOO) HOGWARTS DUNGEONS OR (PERSONAL FLOO) SNAPE'S BEDROOM.

Draco underlined this one three times, then lowered the paper he was holding. It was _perfect. He _was perfect for the job. The ad might as well have stated HOGWARTS IN NEED OF MALE, BLOND, PREFERABLY GOES BY THE NAME OF DRACO MALFOY.

Going back to Hogwarts would be connecting with his roots in a way. He didn't have to pass through the awkwardness of "Hi, my name's Malfoy. Draco Malfoy," because everybody in that school would know who he was. And well-educated! Why, he graduated at the top of his class! And being a Malfoy, well-educated was just one of his many positive adjectives!

Teaching… well… not that he had any professional experience in it, but if he was able to tolerate Crabbe and Goyle's superb stupidity for seven years without going clinically and psychologically insane then he was confident he could tolerate anybody with any number of working and non-working brain cells. And _Snape__! _Snape was his lapdog – he'd do practically everything Draco wanted, even if it included wearing a tutu with frilly pink underwear.

Not that _that _actually occurred or anything. 

Perfect.

He went to the fireplace, noted that he was running low on floo powder, grabbed a handful of it and shouted, "Hogwarts Dungeons!" on top of his lungs.

Green flames that sprouted from the fireplace swallowed him whole, obscuring his vision for several moments.

Which was why he didn't see the way the words in the newspaper rearranged themselves to erase the ad he just read.

-

"They might as well have placed 'in dire need of Hermione Granger' in there…" She smiled as she played with the straw of her drink. "Not that I'm overconfident or anything."

"Overconfident? Nah," said Ron, waving to dismiss the thought. He returned her smile. "Just cocky."

Pansy wrinkled her nose in disgust. "I don't get how _women_ could be cocky, when it's obvious we don't have a—hey! Oww! _Ronald Weasley!_"

"Oops, that was your foot? Sorry."

Hermione caught Harry's eye and she chuckled while he shook his head.

It was amazing how things turned out these past years. It never occurred to her that, one day, she would be sitting next to Pansy Parkinson without wanting to hurl insults or trade sarcastic, wounding retorts. Hermione never thought that the former Slytherin would, in fact, become her and Harry's friend, not to mention Ron's _wife_. Their wedding was swift but memorable, for it formally sealed the truce between Slytherin and Gryffindor when _both _houses supported the union.

Huh. Perhaps she wasn't as prejudiced against Slytherins as she thought she was.

"Who knows," Hermione said, throwing a grin at the squabbling couple, "maybe I'd become Charlotte's professor this coming term."

Ron threw his hands in the air. "Well that guarantees it, then. Now we're assured she's going to get 100% on all her Potions exam!"

"Ronald Weasley!" she said, mimicking Pansy's tone perfectly. "I'm sorry to say but I will _not _be partial to anyone, including my friends' daughter."

He shrugged in defeat. "Fine. I guess we just have to settle for 99% then, eh, Parkinson?"

Pansy dramatically lifted her eyes to the ceiling. "You're incorrigible, Weasley."

"So, when are you going to apply?" asked Harry, finally breaking his lengthy silence.

"Today, actually, after this." Hermione glanced at her watch and then smiled at her friends. "I've still got a couple of minutes to spare. Oh, I'm so terribly excited! I mean, this is going to be a new experience for me… can you imagine, me teaching potions! I wish they'd hire me—"

Harry covered her hand with his. "Well, no one's as qualified for the job as you are, Hermione. Even Snape. You know that."

She grabbed her drink and flashed a "Thanks," before gulping.

"Except for Draco Malfoy," contributed Pansy slyly.

Butterbeer in her nostrils wasn't exactly a pleasant experience. Hermione coughed to expel any remaining liquid where they didn't belong, like in her nose and windpipe. "What?" she choked, thumping her chest.

All eyes were on Pansy. She shrugged. "I'm just saying."

Hermione took a napkin and wiped her mouth with it. "Now why would _he _apply for that line of work, let alone _any _job? That git probably _excretes_ Galleons, and—"

Ron and Harry simultaneously emitted groans of disgust, dropping their utensils loudly on the plates.

"Sorry," she apologized quickly, before turning to look at Pansy with eyebrows raised.

"I'm just saying," repeated Pansy, lifting a delicate hand and studying her nails intently.

And apparently, when a Slytherin studied his or her nails then the subject they were discussing was deemed over. Ron enlightened her and Harry on that one, saying that in the eleven years they were together this system of Pansy's never failed. That enlightenment proved to be very suitable to this situation.

"Well, I guess I better go." Hermione grabbed her bag and stood. "I'll owl you the news, be it good or bad."

"Good luck!" said Harry.

"Break a leg, Granger!" said Pansy.

"Remember, Lot's grade depends on you—oww! Parkinson!"

"Oh, was that your foot?"

-

Fifteen minutes later and she was cruising inside Hogwarts. Hermione took a good look around her – she couldn't believe several years had already passed since she left the place! A lot of changes had happened, mostly with the decors, the paintings, and the commemorative plaques signifying the comings and goings of students and professors both great and talented…  

She spotted an elderly witch in deep emerald robes as she stepped out of her office. Hermione grinned – at least there were still some things that never changed after all! "Professor McGonagall!" she called, waving gaily.

The professor smiled as she neared. Adjusting her glasses she said, "Miss Granger, how wonderful to see you again. The last I saw you was… about ten or so years ago?"

"Eleven," corrected Hermione. "But, who's counting?"

"What brings you here, I wonder?"

"Actually, I'm applying for the Potions professor slot, I heard it was available," she answered. "Professor Snape hasn't hired anyone yet, has he?"

Professor McGonagall shook her head. "The ad just came out this morning, and to my knowledge you are the second to inquire about it."

"The _second_?" Hermione couldn't help the sharp tone in her voice as she asked. "Do you know who applied before me?"

The elderly witch smiled again and patted her shoulder gently. "Perhaps it's best to see for yourself. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to attend to some matters. Good day, Miss Granger, and good luck!" Then, with her robes swishing Professor McGonagall left.   

Hermione had no other choice but to, in her professor's words, see for herself. She bounded towards the dungeons, pleasantly surprised that her feet still knew where to take her. After a couple of trips around the moving stairs and some greetings from the Fat Lady and other portraits who recognized her, she finally reached the door of the Potion's classroom. She inhaled, trying to calm herself down, before she pushed it open.

"Professor Snape?" she called, stepping into the room. "I'm here to inquire about the—"

And that's when the awful truth hit her. When she saw _him.___

It was as if eleven years hadn't passed. Suddenly, she was a student at Hogwarts again, entering a room only to be assaulted by the sight of _him_, unavoidable like plague or inescapable like acne.

"YOU!" was the word that came from her mouth.

Alright, so maybe she _was _still prejudiced against Slytherins, but only in this case because for Merlin's sake this was _Draco Malfoy!_

Denial arrived first. Then shock. Soon came suspicion, followed so very closely by anger.

"YOU!" she sputtered. "What are you—"

"Why hello, Hermione Granger," Malfoy said, sending her a deadly, venomous smile. "If you're here to inquire about the job, then better go home – the position's _just _been filled." The smile widened to a kind with razor-sharp claws and teeth. "By _me._"

-

**Author's Notes: **Hoorah! I've got a new fic! -does the happy dance- Oh, I hope you enjoyed this one as much as I did writing it. I wanted something new to work on, and since this idea came to me one day… I couldn't help but write it down ;)

By the way, special thanks to **Alexathenle**and **Black-Cat-Goddess**. I got both my wishes from you when you reviewed, since you brought my reviews for Abyss and DH to 400 and 200 respectively! Thanks, you guys!

Review, please! Oh, and as for the current state of DH – I have written 2,660 words of it, so it should be out by next week. 'Til then!


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary: **When Hogwarts announced their need for a new Potions professor, Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger were deemed best for the job. Each was desperate to have the job, for different reasons, and since there's only room for one of them… chaos inevitably erupts. DM/HG with hints of RW/PP.

Sanctuary in Potions

Chapter Two: That Mysterious Conversation at the End of This Chapter

-

There were only three things in life that could ruin Draco Malfoy's perfectly pleasant persona: seeing bloody Gryffindors, seeing the holier-than-thou-yes-we're-still-golden-even-after-all-these-years-Golden-Trio, and seeing _one_ of the holier-than-thou-yes-we're-still-golden-even-after-all-these-years-Golden-Trio.

Guess why his perfectly pleasant persona had just been ruined. Just _guess._

"Why hello, Hermione Granger," he said, sending her a venomous, deadly smile that he wished was literally lethal so she would drop dead and leave him be. "If you're here to inquire about the job, then better go home – the position's _just_ been filled." Draco widened his smile to reveal gleaming teeth. "By _me._"

She stood there, with her mouth hanging open and her eyes wide enough to look like saucers on her face. "I—I don't believe it," she muttered. "What the hell are _you _doing here?"

"I _believe_," he drawled lazily, "that even before you posed that question I already gave you an answer." Seeing the blank look on her face, he continued, "_Job, _Granger. Does that word ring any bell in your still-bushy head?"

Still with the blank look. "You're applying for the job?"

Draco gave a dramatic shake of his head. "Again, I already gave you an answer to that. What part of 'this position's just been filled by me' didn't you understand?"

"And again with the 'I don't believe it.'" Granger slammed the door behind her, stepped into the room and looked around. "Where's Snape? I'd like to talk some sense into him."

"He's getting my contract. I'm going to sign it, you know." He brandished the quill he held in his hand. "I know _that _part's pretty clear, even to slow people like you."

She snorted. "Fat chance you are. Snape _has_ to be insane to hire someone like _you_."

_Well, we _are _talking about Snape here. _"Are you saying that you're doubting my ability to impart upon the younger generation the knowledge they need?"

"Hell, yeah." There was that annoyingly smug expression on her face that he'd love to remove. Preferably with his wand.

"What about you, Granger?" he asked, sinking deeper into his seat and making no move whatsoever to offer the empty one beside him. He pocketed his quill. "What made you think _you're _better suited for the job?"

She spotted the chair and sank on it, anyway. "My qualifications aren't something I'd like to discuss with you, as you are _not _the person I'm going to impress."

He smirked. "Well, thank your lucky stars I'm not, because I don't think anything you do _could_ impress me."

Granger sighed. "Sod off, Malfoy."

"I will if you'd leave."

She faced him, a small smile lurking at the corners of her lips. "Why? Do you feel threatened by me, that if Snape knew I was applying then he'd give me the job and forget all about you?"

"No, not really," he retorted. "I just feel _annoyed _because you're… well, here." Draco gave a theatrical sigh. "Granger, Granger. Eleven years hadn't done you any good, did it? Still the vexing know-it-all, I see."

She pursed her lips. "Still the stuck-up prat I remembered you to be."

Not allowing himself to be outdone, he retorted with, "Mudblood."

Granger glared at him. "Merlin, what are you, twelve? It's been years since it stopped being about blood and you know it."

He raised his brow. "I know _that_. But I also know that calling you 'Mudblood' annoys the hell out of you. Oh, look. There's that pout, the flashing of your eyes, the—"

"Well," came the oily voice of Snape, "isn't this just a sight to see."

Granger jumped to her feet and said, "Professor—"

"I would prefer it if you'd call me 'Severus', Miss Granger," he answered, sending her a deadly glare and walking slowly towards his table.

She blinked. "Severus," came out of her mouth tentatively. "I'm here about the—"

"I don't need _you _to tell _me _what you're here for, since there could only be one reason why you are." Snape took his seat.

Draco watched, with an odd, _familiar_ sense of joy as Granger turned an entertainingly pale shade of red. He'd forgotten how much of his childhood bliss came from seeing Snape humiliate a Gryffindor. Thankfully, he was reliving it now.

"Now why don't you sit down, Miss Granger, and tell me why in Merlin's name should I hire a _Gryffindor _to teach Potions."

She took a deep breath, and words immediately tumbled from her mouth. Draco faked a yawn that Snape caught, and the oily smile on the older man's face told him that the professor wasn't listening to a word she was saying as well.

"—and, with the experience I gained from dealing with children, I know that I could make them understand the complexity and importance of knowing how—"

Just to spite her, Draco faked another yawn that he made sure she saw. Granger rolled her eyes and continued with her useless and highfaluting words.

"—Severus, I assure you that if I get this job, I would be giving my best—"

"Yes, yes, very well," said Snape, waving his hand dismissively in the air. "No need to elaborate." He placed his hands under his chin and studied her intently. "Miss Granger, I believe—"

Suddenly, she leaned forward and gripped the edge of the table so tightly her knuckles were white against her skin. "Please, sir," she said low. "I have another reason why I _should _have this job."

The desperation in her voice surprised both Draco and Snape. "And what is it, may I ask?"

She cast a look Draco's way. "I—I need to tell you this in private."

He snorted. "Tough luck, because there's no way I'd—"

"Give us a moment, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco looked at him incredulously. "_What_?"

Snape looked bored as he said, "A moment, Draco. I will call you as soon as Miss Granger is done telling her little secret."

Draco glared at Granger, but it was a wasted effort since she wasn't looking at him. "Fine," he rasped out, slowly rising from his chair.

Before he stepped out of the room, Draco heard Snape cast a silencing spell, and he cursed the old man for not letting him eavesdrop on the conversation.

-

"What is it?" Snape drawled, looking very bored as he spoke.

Hermione sighed. "I—I don't want to resort to telling you this, but with you so close to hiring Malfoy I—"

He raised his brows. "And what made you think I was _close _to hiring him?"

"He—he said you were going to fetch his contract, and—"

"Miss Granger," said Snape slowly, "are you saying that I am biased? That I was going to hire the first person to walk in here without wanting to see the others?"

"No! It's just that—"

"Your secret, Miss Granger. I'd like to know it _now_ please, before I think that you are deliberately trying to invent this secret of yours to _manipulate_ me into hiring you."

_I wish he'd let me finish a sentence! _Hermione resisted the urge to glare at him, and instead took her bag to retrieve an envelope from it. "Here," she said. "Read it, and you'll know why I just have to get this job."

Snape took the letter from her and read it. His eyes widened slightly, and before long the letter was handed back to her. "Someone's stalking you," he stated.

"Yes." She frowned. "It started happening about three weeks ago. I was still employed as the Runes Translator for the Ministry, and almost on a regular basis that letter kept coming to me. I—I tried everything I could to discover who sent it: locator spells, handwriting tracers, even hunting the owl delivering it, but—" Hermione shrugged helplessly.

"Have you tried alerting the authorities? Or Mr. Potter, perhaps?"

She couldn't miss the malice in his voice as he said Harry's name. "My friends know about this, but they can't do anything as well. And believe me, we tried _everything_."

Snape furrowed his brows. "Forgive me, but I still don't see the reason why I should give you the job just because someone's stalking you."

_You would if you have anything resembling a heart! _Desperation clawed at her as she lifted the letter. "_This_ is the reason I resigned from the Ministry. Whoever wrote that knows I'm working there, and I know that working at Hogwarts would help avert the threats to my life. Please Sn—Severus. Give me a chance. All I need is some time to figure out who's behind this, and after I do, you're free to hire anyone to replace me – even Malfoy."

His eyes rallied back and forth from the letter to her face. He took out his wand. "_Finite Incantatem._" He replaced it in his robes. "Mr. Malfoy, you can come in now."

Seconds later, Malfoy stepped into the room. He slipped on the chair beside her without a word.

Snape looked at him, then at her. "I'm still not convinced," he began.

From the corner of her eye she could see that Malfoy was grinning triumphantly, and he sent her a smirk that she would love to erase. Preferably with her foot.

Her face fell. "But—"

"Do _not _interrupt me." Snape stood and paced. "As I was saying, I'm still not convinced why I should hire _one _of you."

Malfoy's face fell as well. "_What?" _he squawked. "But Snape—"

"Severus."

"_Snape_," he repeated intentionally, "you told me I didn't need to elaborate on my credentials because you thought _I _was perfect for the job!"

"You are," Snape affirmed. Hermione rolled her eyes. "But with Miss Granger's condition… _complicating _matters, shall we say, and the undeniable fact that you're _both_ applying for this job because of self-serving reasons, I am torn."

Malfoy looked every inch like a person with his dignity questioned. "Self-serving matters? Of course not. I'm merely doing this for the sake of the children whose lives I'm going to touch."

"How… unselfish of you."

"More like sickening," she muttered under her breath.

Snape chose to ignore her. "But I cannot overlook the fact that you, Draco, want this job because of certain _needs_ that you feel this profession could fulfill."

Hermione raised her brows and looked at Malfoy, who was pointedly ignoring her as well. _What needs are those, I wonder?_

"You are both equally suited for the job." Snape waited for reactions to this statement. Hermione was doing her best to not rebuke it, since she and Malfoy were definitely _not _equals on any level. And judging from the look on his face, he was clearly thinking the same thing. "All right," Snape said, his expression like that of a person doing the greatest sacrifice of his life. "I'm going to give you _both _a chance to handle this position."

"_Both _of us?" she and Malfoy blurted out at the same time. They exchanged deadly glares afterwards.

"Yes. _Both_ of you. Now, here are my terms…"

-

"Where are they now?"

"Hogwarts."

"Wonderful. So everything's working out as planned?"

"Perfectly well, I'd say. As you ordered, the ad in the _Daily Prophet _was erased just after the two of them read it. I can assure you that no one else got hold of that job opening."

"And Snape?"

"He's doing everything he's told to. He's explaining _our_ terms to them as we speak."

"And Draco and that… that woman, what's her name?"

"Hermione. Hermione Granger."

"Ah, yes. _Her. _She's the Muggleborn witch, right? Yes. Very well. Are we assured that they're both going to accept our terms?"

A pause. "They should. After all, they were _both _driven to the brink of desperation. They'd do anything to get that job."

A chuckle. "And desperate they both are. I can't wait to see how this turns out. A lesson to both of them, I know this will be."

-

**Author's Notes: **Hooray! Thank you to those who reviewed the first chapter. I hope you enjoyed this as well. Stay tuned for the next one, okay? ;)


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary: **When Hogwarts announced their need for a new Potions professor, Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger were deemed best for the job. Each was desperate to have the job, for different reasons, and since there's only room for one of them… chaos inevitably erupts. DM/HG with hints of RW/PP and HP/GW.

**Sanctuary in Potions******

Chapter Three: That Reason Why They Have to Teach Hagrid's Subject As Well

-

Draco could feel the blood on his head transverse a path towards his chest, leaving on his already pale face an even pastier color. _Travesty!_ he thought. His eyes left the paper he was holding and pinned on Snape a murderous look. "You can't be serious."

"Oh," Snape said, with a tug on the corners of his hideously misshapen lips, "but I am."

Granger was sitting immobile on her seat, a hand over her mouth; the very picture of quiet horror. "Um," she began, sounding nervous, "I'm sorry, but I thought you're giving us the terms for my—err, _our_ employment?"

"You're already looking at it."

She let out a sound like a strangled cackle. "There must be some mistake. I mean—"

"She's right." Draco straightened himself and leaned forward on his seat. "There _must _be some mistake. I can't accept this." He slapped the paper on the table and looked at Snape defiantly. "I _won't_."

"Well, things seem brighter already. Ten minutes alone and you two are already agreeing with each other. How would, say, a _year_ affect you both I wonder?" There was the evil glint on Snape's horribly misshapen eyes that was undoubtedly a genetic imprint found in _all_ Slytherins.

Granger groaned.

Draco squinted his eyes at him. "Snape, this is absurd. When I came here I was looking for a job, not a long-term torture session! Do you realize that you're making me re-live a horrible phase in my life? And I'm not just talking about pairing me up with a bloody goody Gryffindor, because—"

"Severus," came Granger's brittle tone, "you do realize that the terms suggest we will have to—ahem, have rooms facing each other?"

The professor fixed her a pointed look. "I can assure you that I can read_, _Miss Granger, and that I know all those conditions by heart. I do not need you to point out the specifics for those are the terms _I _have written myself."

"Wait," Draco said suddenly, straightening on his seat, "we'll have to have rooms only several _feet_ away from each other?"

Granger glared at him. "Can't you read? It said so on number two."

"There's a number _two_?" He grabbed the paper and scanned the list. Predictably below number one, was number two. "I don't believe it! We'll have to have rooms only several feet away from each other?"

"This—" She pointed at him, "—is _the_ person you say to be my _equal_? Is this a person you _would_ really want to hire, Severus?"

"Shut it, Granger. If you must know, I was quite horrorstruck at the idea of me teaching—" Draco shuddered, "—_Care of Magical Creatures _that I never got past that_._" He looked at Snape."Where's that beast teaching it?"

"If you must know, Hagrid is _not_ a beast," she cut in. "And to be honest that was the only agreeable term I found, out of all these inane terms."

His eyes widened. "There are _other _terms besides—"

"For Merlin's sake, read the damned list you idiot!" She took a deep breath, then frowned. "Say, where _is _Hagrid? And forgive me, Severus, but we applied– and were accepted – to teach Potions, so how come we should also teach his subject as well?"

Snape shrugged. "Apparently, he and a certain woman from Beauxbaton had decided to tie the knot. He won't be back until the end of this year."

"Hagrid starting a family? Somebody please, think of the children." Draco did, then immediately dismissed the thought – he might get sick.

The professor smirked at him. "This is why my terms included teaching Care of Magical Creatures, because technically that position is also available. We were about to place an ad for it, but now we won't have to – one of you can handle it."

"Yes, I'm sure Miss Granger would certainly feel at home teaching that subject. She certainly _looks _perfect for the job. The animals won't know the difference between her and that beast Hagrid."

"I'm here for Potions and that's the subject I'll be teaching," she said firmly, her palms balled to fists. "Why don't _you_ teach Care for Magical Creatures? I'm sure the animals would be more comfortable knowing one of their kind does."

"Now I know it's worthless to assume both of you gained some maturity over the years," Snape said, his horribly misshapen face twisted to a sneer. "To settle this incredibly childish feud, I will explain the terms for these two subjects."

"Yes, please do," drawled Draco.

"Since they are both taught twice a week – on Tuesdays and Thursdays – one of you will handle Potions while the other handles Care of Magical Creatures. If, for example, you've decided that Mr. Malfoy will handle Potions every Tuesday, then you, Miss Granger, will be in charge of the other subject for that same day. Then, every Thursday the roles will be reversed – Miss Granger for Potions and Mr. Malfoy for Care of Magical Creatures."

"I don't understand," said Granger after a moment of thought.

Draco smirked. "And people say you're _my _equal."

She sneaked a malevolent glance at him. "No, I mean why don't you just hire me for Potions and get Malfoy to teach Hagrid's subject?" Granger said to Snape.

Snape leaned back on his chair. "Because as you said, Miss Granger, you both applied and were accepted to teach _Potions_. Contrary to your popular belief, I am very much a fair man. This way, you'll both get what you want, and in return Hogwarts will also reap a miniscule amount of use from employing the two of you." He smiled vilely. "We _all_ win."

Draco cocked his brow, doubting the logic behind all these. He said nothing.

Granger sported a cynical look on her face, but thankfully kept her mouth shut.

Snape stood. "Now if you will excuse me, I have to get my lesson plan ready for Defense Against the Dark Arts."

-

Hermione swirled her straw with too much unnecessary vehemence. She looked up when she heard footsteps coming towards her direction.

"Sorry we're late, Hermione," said Ron, pulling a seat for Pansy before depositing himself on another.

"I was in a meeting," Pansy said, shrugging off her robe. "Unavoidable."

"But we came here as soon as we could."

Hermione shrugged that away. "Don't worry, it's fine."

"What, no lecture on the importance of time and punctuality?" asked Pansy shrewdly.

Hermione shot her a glare.

"Where's Harry?" Ron asked, looking around.

She sighed. "He couldn't make it. Some problem at home, I guess."

"Well you know pregnancies. Oh, wait. You don't."

Another glare was called for.

Pansy looked defiant. "What? All I'm saying is that pregnancies are hard, and believe me, _I_ know. Ginny's probably having a grand time making frequent trips to the bathroom and sometimes not getting there on time."

"I really didn't need to hear that, Parkinson." Ron called for the waiter and ordered their food.

"But enough about Weasleys and the nuisance they cause to other people." Pansy smiled brilliantly. "How was your Hogwarts trip?"

Hermione took her glass and drank half its content in a single gulp. "I got accepted."

"That's good! No, bad! That's bad!" Ron said, confused. "Wait. Why is this bad, anyway? Isn't this what you wanted?"

"Yes it is."

"And _that's_ a bad thing."

"Yes!" Hermione threw her napkin on the table with too much unnecessary vehemence. "Guess who applied for the same job I did. Just _guess_."

"Draco Malfoy?"

Hermione threw her a dark look. "And you'd know that how?"

Pansy was all big smiles and pride. "We Slytherins have a knack for knowing things. Which is why I know that Charlotte's going to be a Slytherin." She sent Ron a meaningful look.

"Gryffindor," snarled Ron.

"Slytherin."

"Gryffindor."

"Slyth—"

"Hey! Get a room, why don't you," said Hermione. She picked on her food, annoyed.

"Oh, I'm sorry Hermione, I forgot we were here so we could devote some time in discussing petty issues concerning you," Pansy said sweetly.

"It's _not_ petty," Hermione retorted hotly. "Didn't you hear what I just said? I said Malfoy also applied for the job. _Malfoy_! Of all people!"

"So he applied. It's not like he got accepted or anything," said Ron.

"Care to bet your life on that, Weasley?" she asked, a bitter frown on her face.

"He got accepted?" asked Pansy.

"But how? I mean, weren't you also—"

"I know!" said Hermione. "Snape made us accept his twisted terms. Malfoy gets to teach Potions on Tuesdays and I on Thursdays. And, get this – we also get to teach Care of Magical Creatures."

"Oh, right. I heard Hagrid got married or something," said Ron.

Pansy threw her straw on the table with too much unnecessary vehemence. "Somebody please, think of the children."

At that moment, Ron and Pansy's food arrived.

"I don't believe it," said Hermione, watching as Ron took some of Pansy's mashed potatoes and getting slapped on the hand for it. "Seven years with that prat is enough to drive anyone insane, and now this? Of all the rotten luck."

"You're… really not okay with this."

She fixed Ron a steely look. "Does it seem like I'm anywhere _near _okay with this? This is Malfoy, Ron. Dra-co Mal-foy. Anyway, why aren't you going into apoplexy as we speak? Isn't talking about Malfoy the general cue for you to start throwing a fit?"

Ron smiled sheepishly, then draped an arm over Pansy's shoulders. "I guess I'm not as prejudiced against Slytherins as I thought I was, with my marrying one and all."

"We've also been meeting with Draco's mother for some time now, and she's very nice," added Pansy.

"Which led me to believe that, with a mother like that, Draco must have some kind bone in his body. Or at least humane." Ron paused considerably. "Did _I _just say that?"

Pansy patted him on the shoulder, then turned to Hermione. "Forgive my husband. He's having a serious case of character development."

Hermione smiled. "I noticed."

They ate their food in silence. "So, school starts in three weeks, or at least that's what's said in Charlotte's letter. Are you also starting then?" Ron asked.

She sighed. "Yes. And I have to start preparing lesson plans for two subjects. Not to mention defense mechanisms in case Malfoy starts annoying the hell out of me. It's a good thing I preferred not to learn the Unforgivables, or else I would've used one and told him to go jump off Astronomy Tower."

"That _would_ be a sight," said Ron in a dreamy voice.

Pansy shook her head. "So much for character development."

And for the first time that afternoon, Hermione laughed.

-

**Author's Notes: **Whoo! Another round finished. Thank you very much for the encouraging reviews, guys! And, next chapter, school starts… watch out for it. Until then!


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary: **When Hogwarts announces their need for a new Potions professor, Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger are deemed best for the job. Each is desperate to have the job, for different reasons, and since there's only room for one of them… chaos inevitably erupts. DM/HG with hints of RW/PP.

Sanctuary in Potions 

Chapter Four: That Blasted Sorting Ceremony

-

Draco grimaced as he watched the other teachers hurry to and fro, obviously stirred up by the news that came to them. The first years were arriving any moment soon, and now the others were busy with arranging decorations and all the other nonsense to make the kids feel more welcomed and at home. Turned out this whole welcoming thing was a big deal to teachers, and since he _was _already a teacher… this should be a big deal to him as well.

_Too bad it still wasn't. _

He looked at one side and saw McGonagall – _Minerva, whatever_ – usher the older students into the Great Hall. He cocked his brow as some students – the female kind – gave him lingering glances as they passed by. Draco obliged them; he gave them a smile full of teeth and in turn heard quite a few collective sighs of adoration and worship.

_Well, _he thought, burying his hands in his pockets, _this might not be so bad after all. _Draco knew he looked absolutely smashing when he put that teacher's robes on. Made him more dignified and imposing at the same time. Dignified and imposing Malfoys tend to have dire effects on women of all ages, shapes, and sizes, which guaranteed that, during his stay at Hogwarts, women of all ages, shapes, and sizes would definitely flank his feet and kiss the mere ground he was treading on.

_No, not so bad after all._

He turned and got ambushed by a bush made of hair and… paper.

"Oh, damnit!" the bush muttered.

Once he got all the hair out of his face, he recognized that the owner of these frizzy things was none other than a minion of the devil spewed out from hell to torment his heavenly existence on earth.

"Granger, you idiot," he snapped, looking down at her as she bent on her knees to collect the cascade of paper near his feet. "Look where you're going!"

The said minion looked up at him and glared. So predictable of her, really. "Do you mind?" She gestured at the sea of sheets.

_What, you expect me to help? _Draco stepped away and made no move whatsoever to aid her pick up her trash. "By all means, proceed." And then, with a swish of his robes he left.

_Well, _he thought, moving towards the Great Hall, _even with the major inconvenience of her being here, this _still_ might not be so bad after all. _It was uncanny of him to be optimistic, but he found out that that if he didn't opt for a more positive outlook then he might just succumb to wrapping her up and sending her to Azkaban as an early Christmas gift to the Dementors. Not really a bad idea, considering the relief it'd bring him, but of course as a professor at Hogwarts he had to maintain an aura of wisdom and fortitude around him. People with auras of wisdom and fortitude around them did _not_ send otherpeople as gifts to Dementors, no matter how tempting or _right _the said plan was.

_Plus, I don't think I have a big enough wrapper with me. _

Someone bumped into his shoulder and walked past him. Draco resisted the childish urge to grab her hair and pull her back. _Remember, aura of wisdom and fortitude, _he told himself, balling his palms to fists.

Granger paused and looked at him. "Do you _always _have to be in my way, Malfoy?"

He gave her a smile full of lip. "Do you _always_ have to be infuriating, Granger?"

She gave him a full scan with her eyes. Changing topics she muttered, "I see you've come unprepared. Not that I expected you to be otherwise."

"Just because I don't carry books or papers with me doesn't mean I'm unprepared, you insufferable know-it-all." He cocked his head to one side. "Besides, I don't need them anyway. It's the _first_ day of class. It's unthinkable to give the students lessons this early."

"So says the insufferable git," Granger retorted acerbically. "Fortunately, _I_ don't have that demented logic of yours." And she turned and walked away.

_Wisdom. Fortitude. _Breathe_. One, two, three. _

_Four. Five. I am a man of wisdom. I will not hex her to oblivion. Six. Seven. _

_Breathe. That's it. Eight, nine, ten. _

Feeling calm enough to not heed the strong desire to tear the head out of a particular _woman's_ shoulders, Draco strode forward and entered the Great Hall.

It was strange to walk this familiar path and not head towards his familiar seat at the head of the Slytherin table. He found himself looking back as he passed. Now, the person occupying his seat was the youngest brother of Millicent Bulstrode. _At least he's worthy_, he thought, claiming the chair besides Snape. _At least he's pureblood._

_Not that blood matters nowadays. _

The older professor nodded at him. "Draco."

"Snape."

"Severus," came the automatic correction.

"_Snape._"

"Ah." Snape's eyes held that knowing gleam. "Still haven't forgiven me for hiring Miss Granger, I see."

At the mention of the name, Draco tossed a glance her way. She was seated beside Minerva, and the two were chatting amicably. "Among other things," he replied easily, grabbing a napkin and flattening it on his lap. He reached for a loaf of bread and began tearing it to small pieces.

"As courtesy, we don't get to eat until the first years have been sorted," said Snape, as he drank from his goblet.

"And there's… what, thirty or forty of them?"

"Fifty-six," Snape answered.

"And we're supposed to wait until all those damned children are sorted?"

"Each and every one."

"Rubbish," Draco commented as he helped himself to some potatoes. "Lucky for me, I don't care much for courtesy."

Snape chuckled, and looked on with what seemed like approval in his gaze.

He felt someone staring at him as he chewed his food. He looked at his side, and predictably Granger was looking at him with pure disgust in her gaze. Draco lifted his fork and made a big show of placing a potato in his mouth. She grimaced, then shook her head.

At that moment, several noises crowded the Great Hall. Draco dropped his fork as he realized that indeed, the first years had arrived. As a group, they looked tiny and in complete awe of the magical ceiling above them. Collective gasps and pointed fingers soon added to the heaps of excitement emanating from these children.

"Welcome, welcome," said Dumbledore as he materialized from the side and deposited the Sorting Hat on the empty chair at the front. The noise completely died down as he spoke in loud tones. "In behalf of all the professors, I say we are pleased to see that all of you arrived safely. I trust that the journey went well?"

"Yes!" answered the brave ones in the group. Draco gritted his teeth. _Gryffindors, _he thought in disgust. He glanced at the side and saw Granger stand and wave gaily at someone. He followed her gaze, and a surge of anger assaulted him as he was greeted with an all too familiar color. Without thinking, he trailed her as she left the table.

"Excellent, most excellent," Dumbledore was saying. "Before we begin, I will ask each of you that, as soon as Professor McGonagall call your name you should sit on this chair and let the Sorting Hat sort you. There are four houses: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. The Sorting Hat will look into each of you, see the qualities you have, and select the house you will belong to. But allow me to give you the Sorting Hat itself to explain everything…" He waved a hand, and the hat sprung to life, burst into song:

_Another year for you and I_

_Has already started, _

_Now my task I must perform_

_And get you all sorted._

_Put me on, I see your mind_

_And all that's lurking there,_

_Put me on, I see your heart,_

_And all that's left to bare._

_So come to me, sit on this chair, _

_And we shall soon begin,_

_Trust in me and I will reveal_

_Where you'll stay from herein!_

_Four houses there are to choose_

_That which suits you the best _

_Each house its own, each one as good_

_And mighty as the rest. _

_In Gryffindor the brave resides_

_With all those noble and bold,_

_In Hufflepuff the honest lives_

_And loyalty is all but old!_

_In Ravenclaw the clever dwells_

_Intelligence their trait in common,_

_In Slytherin the cunning stays_

_Amid those with wit and ambition. _

_So put me on and I will reveal_

_Where you'll stay from herein,_

_Be it in Gryffindor, Hufflepuff,_

_In Ravenclaw, or Slytherin!_

-

"Ron! Pansy!" Hermione made a beeline to her friends, trying to be discreet in calling their attention and failing miserably at it.

Pansy spotted her and tapped her husband, who was busy staring at the midst of children. "Hey," she said as soon as Hermione had firmly deposited herself on their side. "First day!"

"I know," said Hermione with a big smile. She looked at Ron. "Say, you're looking a bit nervous."

Ron grinned sheepishly. "Just wondering about Lot's house, that's all."

"Not," interrupted Pansy, "that he needed to wonder. I say she's in Slytherin and that's the end of it."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You two still at that Gryffindor/Slytherin issue?" she asked before Ron could say anything.

"Hell yeah," Pansy said. Her eyes were glinting maliciously. "We even have a bet about it."

"I feel that if I ask what's at stake the answer would undoubtedly scar me for life," she retorted dryly.

"Undoubtedly," echoed Ron, his eyes also gleaming mischievously. _Pansy's influence, no doubt. _He then lifted his hand and waved. "There she is!"

Hermione followed his finger and there, in the middle of the group, was Charlotte Weasley. The shock of red hair gave her identity away, along with the green eyes and the generous scattering of freckles around her (pug) nose. Truly, there was no mistaking who this child's parents were.

"Oh, she looks so grown-up!" said Pansy, in a suspiciously teary tone.

"Seems like only yesterday that _we're _the ones being sorted," Hermione said low, watching as Minerva called 'Abbey, Marie'.

"Hufflepuff!" the Sorting Hat howled.

"She definitely looks life a Hufflepuff," Ron commented blithely, sending Pansy a meaningful look.

Pansy sighed loudly. "Hair color is _not _the basis for sorting, Weasley. For the last time—" She paused, then smiled hugely. "Draco!"

Hermione and Ron both wore identical looks of revulsion as Pansy eagerly wrapped her arms around Malfoy. The latter wasn't too hesitant to return it with equal amounts of enthusiasm, either. "Pansy! Looking good, I should say."

Three seconds elapsed. Then, "All right, enough with the touching." And Ron, bless him, pried Pansy off of Malfoy's hold.

"Oh, right," said Malfoy caustically. "You two are _together_ now."

"Eleven years," bragged Ron in sotto voice. "_Happily married._"

Malfoy fixed Pansy a look, then shook his head. "Pansy, Pansy." He clucked his tongue for good measure.

His expression of disappointment for Pansy's choice of husband did not escape Hermione. It aggravated her to no end. "Why are you here, Malfoy?" she asked.

He gave her another smile full of lip. "I work here, Granger."

"No, I meant—"

"Oh, right," said Ron acidly. "You're a _teacher _now."

Malfoy gave Ron a glare that could turn his red hair white. "You got a problem with that, Weasley?"

"You bet I do, you pasty—"

"Hey!" said Pansy suddenly, her eyes on the first years. "Is that a Longbottom?"

True enough a splitting image of Neville was walking towards the Sorting Hat, a very smug expression on his young, chubby face. The Hat wasn't yet on his head when it cried, "Slytherin!" in a loud voice.

Malfoy and Pansy both wore identical looks of revulsion on their faces.

Hermione grinned. "I could just imagine Neville and Luna's reactions when they learn Neil's in Slytherin."

"That's it," concluded Malfoy, pointing at the child. "_That's_ the downfall of Slytherins. The day a _Longbottom _becomes one… of… us…" He shuddered.

Pansy proved she was still a Slytherin through and through when she shared Malfoy's distaste. "I didn't even know Longbottom's got a son." She tugged at Ron's sleeve desperately. "You have to talk to Lot, Weasley. Tell her to stay away from Longbottom. To think of her… fraternizing with a Long—"

"Who's Lot?" asked Malfoy casually.

Ron and Pansy stared at him like he was not of this earth. _Not very far from the truth, _thought Hermione, _since this man's certainly a minion of the devil himself! _"Charlotte Weasley," she replied slowly, as if she was talking to a dumb child. Which she certainly was, when she noted that a blank look was still on Malfoy's face. "No? How about Charlotte Patrice _Parkinson_ Weasley, then? Ring any bells?"

At that, Malfoy seemed to have sprung to life. "You two have a daughter?" he demanded.

"Oh, good _job_ Malfoy," said Ron sharply.

Pansy crossed her arms over her chest, an acidic expression on her face. "You know, I was thinking why on earth I was mad at you, Draco Malfoy. Now I remember." She hit him on the arm. Hard. "You didn't answer any of my owls you vexing son of a—"

"Hey!" Hermione interrupted, glad for an excuse to break this heated argument up. "It's Lot's turn on the Sorting Hat!"

And the four of them watched as the girl in question sat on the chair and had the hat placed over her head. The Sorting Hat seemed to have thought for a long moment before it announced, "Hufflepuff!"

The looks on Ron and Pansy's faces were exquisite indeed. Both mouths were sputtering in outrage and the color on them had decided to take a permanent holiday.

It took all of Hermione's strength to not laugh out loud. "I guess _that_ solves your little bet, huh?"

"This… this is impossible," said Ron, apparently lost in a world of his own.

"My daughter, a… a…" Pansy winced. Then fixed Ron a very angry expression. "This, Weasley, is all _your _fault." Without another word she stalked away.

"My fault? What the—Parkinson, get back here!" And cue his exit as well.

Hermione watched them leave with a fond smile on her lips. She had no doubt that Ron and Pansy could fix this little problem, as they always did when they had little problems in the past. _The wife_ told her before that all _the husband_ needed to cool off were a bit of cuddling and some cockroach clusters on a _Pansy_ platter.

She told the wife she _really_ didn't want that kind of information about her friend, thank you very much.

"Those two always like that?" asked Malfoy.

Hermione looked at him. "Let me put it this way – the day they stopped acting like that is the day they get a divorce."

He grinned. "I guess _that's_ what you get when you marry a Slytherin to a Gryffindor."

"Exactly," she said, chuckling. "You get hell."

And apparently, they both realized that they were having an almost _normal _conversation between them. Muttering some excuse, Malfoy left. Seconds later, Hermione followed.

"Let the feast begin!" said Dumbledore, and this announcement was drowned by the sounds of spoons and forks against plates and platters against wood.

-

**Author's Notes: **Oh, thank you very much for the reviews, guys! Please keep 'em coming!


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary: **When Hogwarts announces their need for a new Potions professor, Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger are deemed best for the job. Each is desperate to have the job, for different reasons, and since there's only room for one of them… chaos inevitably erupts. DM/HG with hints of RW/PP.

Sanctuary in Potions

Chapter Five: That Dreaded First Time on the Job

-

Draco was horribly torn between making a grand entrance by being fashionably late and punishing the students for it, or creating a lasting impression by being extremely early and punishing the students for it.

Then he realized that he'd be punishing the students either way so it really didn't matter.

He scrutinized his appearance on the mirror, frowning as he looked down on himself. Draco was wondering how some of the teachers created that billowing effect on their clothes. It was a crucial factor to earn respect – he picked that up from a magazine somewhere - but then again, who'd want to meddle with a _Malfoy_? Particularly one who actually _had_ legalpower over things and people?

_A perpetual breeze, perhaps? _No. It might get too drafty on certain… important parts of his anatomy. _A bigger robe? _And make him look twenty pounds heavier? Please. _How about—_

Someone knocked on his door and shattered his thoughts on the _very_ important matter. Draco was about to ignore it – clearly, his appearance was definitely more significant than, say, his job – but the knocking became louder and louder until he was almost afraid a fist will go through the door any second.

"Yes?" he snapped, without fully seeing whom he was speaking to when he opened the door.

When he finally saw the person, his temper shot up and for a moment his vision blurred with anger. After all, he _was _disrupted from an essential morning routine and all because of one pathetic, idiotic woman named— "Hermione Granger," he bit out, his voice full of suppressed annoyance. "Fancy seeing you in my doorstep. What, you wanted to start your day all bright and glorious so you've come to see _me_ for it?"

Granger raised her brow at him. "And a _good _morning to you too. Here. Have this." She shoved a ton of paper at him.

Draco staggered at the weight he received. "What the hell—"

"It's the outline for the two subjects we're teaching, with titles and authors of reference books and short descriptions of the topics in them.

I've browsed through them last night, and I also checked the library when I had the chance. I think there're only one or two books missing from the list, but otherwise—"

"Aren't you just the eager beaver," he quipped. He lifted the stack with some difficulty. "I appreciate this very much." To prove his sincerity, Draco threw the papers at the floor where upon impact it exploded into a huge, messy heap.

Granger's jaw dropped at his actions. "Wha—Why'd you do that? Don't you know that _that _list was already arranged in chronological order so our topics won't overlap?"

"You probably didn't sleep at all last night just to arrange it. Correct?"

"Of course! And now you—"

"Granger, does it somehow occur to your bushy head that I just don't care?" he asked earnestly. "Well," Draco said after a moment of silence, "I guess it doesn't, with that hair disrupting your thinking process and all."

She glared at him, and folded her arms over her chest. "You're _so_ infuriating, you know that? You don't have an ounce of decency in that corrupted, filthy head of yours that makes me think you're—"

Draco adopted a wounded look on his face. "That hurts me, Granger. I _am _a decent man, let me tell you. Why do you think I'm not slamming this door on your face as we speak? But, now that I've mentioned it—" He slammed the door on her face.

_That felt good, _he thought, smiling hugely.

She pounded on the door three times. "I'm only trying to help you, Malfoy! But I guess you're too much a bigoted self-righteous _jerk_ to even—"

"Whoever told you I needed your help? I don't need your help! Now go away before somebody sees you there. I have a reputation to maintain, you know."

"Ha! See if I help you out in the future… _ferret!_" Footsteps echoed, and then the sound of her door slamming close resounded in the silent hallway.

That woman _really_ knew how to get under his skin so early in the morning. Some type of Gryffindor skill, no doubt about it. She probably had a '_pester Draco Malfoy' _tattooed on her skin somewhere, making her act accordingly.

How unfortunate that he _had _to tolerate her presence for, oh, another three hundred and sixty four days.

_Breathe. Breathe. Breathe._

It took Draco fifteen minutes to calm himself enough to not want to set the stack of papers she delivered on fire and slip it quietly under her door, then pull a chair by her room to hear her frantic screams.

It also took him that amount of time to realize that he was going to be fashionably late for his class. Head held high, he marched towards the dungeons.

Draco opened the door to the Potions classroom, and instantly the yammering noises ceased. He tossed a glance around and saw that the students he was going handle were Slytherins and – gasp! - Hufflepuffs.

_And a good way to start the day is… _"Ten points from Hufflepuff," Draco happily said.

Half of the class went white with confusion, which were a sight for sore eyes and a sour mood.

Damn. It felt good to actually _be_ a professor. It's like being a professional bastard and getting paid for it.

A snicker caught Draco's attention. It came from the student sitting nearest to his desk.

"You. Stand up."

The infernal child did, and raised his chin and glared defiantly at him while at it.

Draco remembered this ghastly-looking kid from the Sorting Hat ceremony, and now it sickened him to see the Slytherin emblem on _this_ Longbottom's robe. It was so… insulting. Like saying _Potter _should've been a Slytherin. _Pause. Shudder._ _Vomit at the thought._

Huh. Maybe he should be thankful for small favors.

"What's your name?"

"Neil. Longbottom," he said with a very proud sneer.

"How unfortunate," Draco said disdainfully. "Sit down and ten points from Slytherin."

The other half of the class went white as well. Now _all _his students were pale and sweating.

He _did_ mention something about being a professional bastard, didn't he?

But Longbottom proved himself to be his father's son. "Ten points!" he exclaimed annoyingly. "Why? Why? _Why?_"

"Because I said so. Now sit down and another ten points for questioning my authority."

"You're a Slytherin before, my father told me you were," Longbottom muttered, still not sitting down. "Why aren't you taking our side?"

"Because I'm a professor. I don't take sides."

Which was true. Faced with two options, a Slytherin Longbottom or pasty Hufflepuffs, Draco would definitely choose neither one of them. House loyalty be damned!

"When my father hears this—"

Odd. That line sounded _very _familiar to his ears. Like someone from his childhood years used it often. _Who could that be? Potter? No, his father's dead. Weasley? His father's too poor. Pansy? Err… Granger? _Dismissing the thought he said,"Listen here, Longbottom. I don't care if your father happens to be the Minister of the whole wizarding world, all right? If your father happened to be _Dumbledore_ and you're the product of an illicit love affair between him and McGonagall then I'd _still_ deduct points from your house. Now _sit down _before I deduct all the points from Slytherin."

Reluctantly, Longbottom sat down, muttering, "Wait 'til my father—"

"So," said Draco, taking out his wand and twirling it prettily, "let's skip the 'introduce yourselves to me' part and go directly to me introducing myself to you, which we all know is more important. As all of you _should_ remember, I am Draco Malfoy. I'll be your professor every Tuesday in _Potions_ and every Thursday in _Care of Magical Creatures_. As for rules… don't be stupid, don't be too bright, and don't _ever _be a know-it-all. Impress me and I'll deduct points from you. Annoy me and I'll deduct points from you. Breathe improperly and I'll deduct points from you. Disagree with me and I'll deduct points from you. Agreed?"

The students, stunned to silence by the chain of events, mutely nodded.

"Wonderful." And Draco smiled.

By the end of the first subject, the Hufflepuff glass case didn't have a single stone in it.

The Slytherin's, on the other hand, was near overflowing.

Seemed that Draco Malfoy couldn't keep being unbiased for too long.

--

Hermione rubbed her palms nervously for the hundredth time, craning her neck to check if the students were coming or not. She squinted, and then sighed – not a single child was coming her way. Yet.

Care of Magical Creatures might not be her strongest area, but she had developed a fondness for it, partly because of Hagrid's short-lived participation. Now, she was standing near his hut, the open space being the official venue for the subject. Hermione had learned that past students preferred this location instead of a classroom because they didn't feel enclosed. It was also better for the students to observe the animals in their natural habitat than those in trapped in cages. 

It was already past lunch hour, and finally Hermione could hear voices and footsteps coming her way. She placed on her brightest smile and waited, not allowing herself to look too eager or too impatient as she did.

"Welcome!" she said, spreading her arms wide in greeting. "Please gather around, yes, that's it. My name is Hermione Granger, and I'll be teaching you your first lesson in _Care of Magical Creatures_ for today. But before we begin, can anyone tell me your expectations for this term? What do you wish to learn? Anybody?"

No one was raising his or her hand.

Hermione felt some stress creeping into her, but she decided to ignore it. "All right," she said instead. "Let's do introductions first. I've already told you my name, so you have to tell me yours. Who would like to start?"

Still no response.

Then someone raised her hand.

"Yes?" Hermione smiled encouragingly at Charlotte, and felt as though she could've awarded the Hufflepuff a thousand points for breaking the stiff silence surrounding them.

"Miss Granger, are you… are you going to deduct points from us? Because we don't have any left."

Half of the students nodded solemnly at this, while the other half looked smug.

Hermione didn't have to guess which house felt more superior over the other. She just had to remember from what subject these students came from and she'd know what happened. "No," she said slowly, looking at the others. "I'm not going to deduct points from Hufflepuff. In fact, why don't I award twenty points for you being the first student to speak?"

At that, half the students smiled, and the other half looked ready to hex her.

_Malfoy, you sick bastard, _she thought, balling her hands to fists. She knew that idiot was big trouble, but to have him destroy _her _first teaching experience and scar the Hufflepuffs' lives while at it… it was too much.

The awarding of points to the Hufflepuffs proved to be the much needed icebreaker. Soon, the children were encouraged to speak, and even the Slytherins became talkative. It didn't take Hermione too long to figure out that she had to exert strict control over the students, or else even _she _wouldn't be able to hear herself think.

"So," she said, motioning for the students to pipe down, "as Mr. Malfoy no doubt already told you, we both will be your professors for these two subjects – _Potions _and _Care for Magical Creatures. _On Tuesdays, like this one, we'll be discussing about magical animals and how beneficial they are to the wizarding world. I'll also be teaching you how to take proper care of them, and how to recognize a creature and so on. Thursdays will be devoted to _Potions_, and in there I'll show you that magic is also reliant on the different concoctions that wizards and witches conjure in order to make spells more effective or, at times, counter them. I assure you that we'll be having fun while learning. Doesn't that sound good?"

"Yes!" the children wholeheartedly answered.

"Wonderful," said Hermione. "Now—"

A loud screech came from atop, and she ducked as a large eagle swooped down, clutching something in its blade-like talons. The children cried out in terror and scrambled to their feet, rushing towards Hermione like a mob. Then she started – the eagle was heading towards Neil Longbottom!

"Neil!" Hermione shrieked, taking out her wand. "Nei—"

Then the most unbelievable thing happened.

The Slytherin casually stretched his right arm, and the bird perched on it, dropping a small bag onto the child's left hand. "Good boy," Neil crooned, then thrust his arm upward to allow the eagle to fly again. "Tell Mama thanks for me!" Then he locked eyes with Hermione and he _smirked._

She was almost trembling. Her heart was still pit pattering in her chest and here was the infernal child _smirking _at her? "Neil," she said low, glaring at him, "do you know what you've just done? You scared your schoolmates half to death!"

"Well," Neil said, shrugging, "no one was hurt. And it isn't Ralph's fault the Hufflepuffs are such cowards."

"Cowards!" cried Charlotte, stepping out of Hermione's side. "We are not cowards! That—that thing was so scary and—"

"Ralph wouldn't hurt anyone anyway," Neil answered, frowning at Charlotte. "He's trained very well. My father saw to it that he was."

"So this Ralph is your house pet?" asked Hermione.

"He's my eagle. I didn't want to get an owl. Owls are stupid."

Hermione crossed her arms in front of her. "You do know that there are specified times for deliveries from home, don't you? It was made perfectly clear during the Sorting Ceremony."

"I can't predict when my parents will send me sweets!" said Neil in his most obnoxious tones.

She had reached the end of her limits. "One hundred points from Slytherin," Hermione called. "And detention for you, Longbottom!"

"WHAT!" he cried. "That's not fair! It wasn't my fault that—"

"Be thankful I'm not deducting more points from your house, when I could very well do so!" she said loudly.

"But—"

"Not one more word," Hermione warned. "Not _one_ more word."

And Neil Longbottom stood there, glaring daggers at her.

Hermione's shoulders slumped. It was such her luck then, that fate would treat her like this.

She had Draco Malfoy as a co-teacher, which was hell indeed.

Now she had one _just like him _as a student as well?

"Someone shoot me now, please," she muttered under her breath.

"What's that, Miss Granger?" asked Charlotte, attentively hanging on to her every word.

"Nothing!" Hermione said, pasting on a false cheery smile. "Nothing at all."

**Author's Notes: **Do forgive me for taking so long to update… at first I was thinking of picking this up after I've finished DH but I also thought it'd be a waste to let this go, so… updated! Hopefully you'll be on the lookout for the next chapter of this story :)


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary: **When Hogwarts announces their need for a new Potions professor, Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger are deemed best for the job. Each is desperate to have the job, for different reasons, and since there's only room for one of them… chaos inevitably erupts. DM/HG with hints of RW/PP.

Sanctuary in Potions

Chapter Six: That Inevitable Conflict between Them, aka Like You Didn't See This Coming

-

"Page forty-four," Draco drawled lazily. He crossed his arms and smirked at the sudden noise of books being opened in haste. It was a wonderful sound, really, full of suppressed fear of him and what he could do to a student who'd be late in doing what he'd asked. "On top of that page is a picture of a salamander. By the end of this period, I want each of you to hand in three feet of parchment containing an essay about the creature. Any questions?"

As usual, no one dared challenge his authority on the matter. No one was raising his or her hand.

Except one.

Her hand waving gaily in the air, Charlotte Weasley bit her lip as she all but stood in her desire to be noticed.

Draco made it a point to walk around the area, casually checking the trees, tapping the cages, and ignoring the student in the process. "No? No questions at all?" he said in sotto voice.

"Mr. Malfoy, _please _Mr. Malfoy—"

He fought the urge to curse. It was just his dumb, rotten, ill-willed luck that he had a student of this type. As if having Granger as a colleague wasn't bad enough, he'd have to have a student _exactly like her_, too!

For all he knew, this was Weasley's cunning plan all along. A revenge tactic of some sort. He might have foreseen Draco applying for this job in the far future, so he snagged the nearest female, married, procreated - and eleven years later this little she-weasel was born and ready to torment him. _Damn you Weasley!_

He sighed, like a martyr resigned to his treacherous fate. Well. Since this was, unfortunately, his case, he only had one pleasurable thing to do.

Torture beyond belief.

He fought the urge to snicker and said in a superior tone, "Well then. Since _no one_ has any questions—"

"Sir, please." Standing on unsteady legs, the blasted Hufflepuff looked up at him with huge eyes. She pointed at the picture in her book. "There is only one paragraph about salamanders on the entire page, and try as we might we cannot come up with three feet of—"

"Bet _you _can't," Longbottom said, leaning back on his chair. His goons – Crabbe Jr. and Goyle Jr. – snickered on cue. "_I_ certainly can."

Weasley just glared at him, before continuing with, "Mr. Malfoy, please, if only you can—"

"Five points from Hufflepuff for your disrespect, Miss Weasley," Draco said. With relish.

Longbottom looked pleased.

Weasley looked about ready to cry, and _that_ brightened Draco's mood considerably. But that wasn't obvious as he drawled in his most displeased tone, "Now _sit down_ and get started… unless you have any other questions?" When she shook her head, the corners of his mouth lifted and he walked away.

So _this _was the reason Snape was such a bastard to any non-Slytherin people. It gave him extreme bouts of pleasure and power – imagine, inflicting pain and damage to people with nary a wand or weapon in sight! _Ah, the power of words, _Draco thought, catching the quivering of Weasley's quill as she attempted to start on her essay. _Mightier than the sword indeed._

It was a promising start. Draco believed the students should be the ones doing the work, with him as the knowledgeable teacher telling them what to do. No questions, no discussions, no problems. So far, none of his students were complaining – then again, what right did they have to do so? They were _only _students. He _was _the teacher.

Just then, the scrunching of leaves caught his attention, and he looked up – only to have his mood darkened considerably.

Granger was determinedly walking towards him, sporting a bag that undoubtedly contained hundreds of feet of collected parchments that was probably heavier than her. "Mal—I mean, Professor Malfoy," she said, slightly out of breath as she labored through the last steps. "I—"

"Hello Ms. Granger!" said Weasley.

"Suck up," Longbottom muttered in a not-so-low voice.

"Shut up!" Weasley returned.

"Hello, Lot. Hello children," Granger greeted, before turning to him, her face losing all traces of courtesy and politeness. "We have to talk," she said in that high-and-mighty tone of hers he had despised for _so_ very long. "Have a minute?"

_Torture beyond belief, _Draco reminded himself. "What about?"

She took one parchment from her bag and waved it around like a lunatic. "I asked for an advanced assignment for my lesson on dugbogs last week and what do I get? 'Please refer to the ten-foot essay on dugbogs I gave to Mr. Malfoy last month.' Ten-foot essay? _Last month?_" she screeched, causing students to look at her. She took a deep breath, threw a quick smile at the students to reassure them, then hissed, "_You _shouldn't have discussed dugbogs until last week! Didn't you read the syllabus?"

"What syllabus?" he asked, smirking broadly.

"This one." She got another parchment from her bag and shoved it to his chest. Granger then promptly took it from him, opened it up, then pointed at the entry marked 'October'. "We were supposed to discuss dugbogs for three weeks, from last week until next," she explained, still in that vexing superior tone of hers. "But then, since you already took up dugbogs last month, what _are _you discussing – if you can even call your method _that _– now?"

"Um, Mr. Malfoy?" one of the nameless – well, in Draco's opinion _any _Hufflepuff was nameless – students came to him, bringing his book. "Are we allowed to also—"

"What's this?" Granger took the book from the cowering student, and her eyes doubled in size at what she saw. "Salamanders? You're taking up salamanders _now_?" she thundered. "I haven't even had a session with them about dugbogs!"

The student gently took three steps back then ran for his life.

Draco had had enough. No one _else_ was supposed to terrorize children like that! "And if I am teaching them about salamanders now," he countered heatedly, "what's it to you?"

Granger took three deep, cleansing breaths then said, "You're supposed to act like a professional, Malfoy! You're a _professor,_ for Merlin's sake! You can't just teach children anything that pops into your head!" She flipped to page twenty-six and said, "Did you even test them if they know absolutely everything about dugbogs? For all I know you just asked them to make essays and, poof, on to the next creature!"

That was _precisely _what he was doing, but hell would freeze if he admitted that to her! "_Don't_ lecture me on how to handle my class," Draco muttered, his tone dark and dangerous. "What I do with them is _none of your damned business. _Understand?"

She chuckled. The nerve! "You're wrong. As usual," Granger all but snarled. "We share this class together. We share the subjects. Heck, we share the students! What you do in your time with them affects me directly, but with you being your arrogant, demented self, you won't even realize that, ever!"

He was seconds away from throttling her with his bare hands. Giving her a heated glare and sparing the students from a grisly murder, he said to the class, "Continue your essay in the library. Class dismissed."

The Slytherins were very fast in gathering their things and leaving, but the Hufflepuffs were considerably more reluctant to go. Weasley, especially, was torn between leaving with her friends and staying behind. She looked at Draco, then at Granger, before saying, "Professor—"

"Just leave!" Draco sputtered.

And she was gone.

When Draco turned to face Granger again, he saw her opening her mouth to speak. Beating her to it he said, "Don't tell me what I did now was wrong, too!"

She pursed her lips. "I was going to say you did the right thing, but why waste words?" Granger set down her bag on the ground. "Now, what I want to do is—"

"Do you _really _think I'm interested to know what _you _want to do? You just disrupted my class and—"

She inched her chin higher. "We have to settle the discrepancy in our lessons," she said. "I have to know what topics you already covered so that in my—"

He crossed his arms again. "I've covered _everything_ about dugbogs, you know-it-all nuisance," Draco snapped. "Nothing's left to discuss."

She arched an eyebrow. "Oh, really?"

He smiled. "Really."

"From stages of growth to ways of destroying them?"

"Even reproduction," Draco added smugly. "Want a demonstration?"

She studiously ignored that. "So… if I give them, say, an exam next week, they'll all pass?"

"Each and every one."

Granger grabbed her bag again. "You better hope they will," she challenged. "Because if _one_ of them fails – and I'll be _very _thorough in checking – you'll be teaching them _Care of Magical Creatures _for the next few months while I take over _Potions. _Agreed?"

"This is blackmail," he told her point-blank, and not with a small amount of annoyance.

"_You_ should know," she said smugly. "This is _education_ at its best."

--

She could _not _believe it.

She could not possibly, honestly, _entirely_ believe it.

Hermione had carefully constructed the exam, and even proctored its administration so that Malfoy wouldn't have any chances of tainting the results with his cheating and what-not - even if it meant giving him a day off and seeing him traipsing along the corridors while she stood and guarded all day long.

She was _so_ sure that someone was going to fail the exam. All right, maybe that was, well, _wrong _of her to say as she _was_ the esteemed teacher of these children, but with the way Malfoy's been conducting his classes someone was bound to find it difficult to answer her exam. After all, Malfoy's preferred essays were always subjective, both in the answering and checking. Her multiple-choice questions were objective, with one and _only one_ answer to every question.

But the results didn't reflect what she wanted them to reflect. The children actually passed. And yes, she had checked and rechecked the papers, and even her answer key didn't escape her scrutiny. They _all _passed, with high scores to boot.

Grimacing as she sipped her now-cold tea, Hermione told herself that she should be relieved, even, that Malfoy's sub-standard method and style of teaching – well, it _was! _ - was somewhat effective. This meant less work for _her _in one subjectas she could just build on where Malfoy left off, or better yet, reinforce the lesson with concrete and live examples of the creatures.

Thank goodness she didn't have this problem with him in Potions. The said subject relied more on demonstration, anyway, so even _he_ was forced to do some damned work of his own.

All right. Okay. She had to, somehow, deal with this. This did not, in any way, prove that the damned infuriating Draco Malfoy was better than her in teaching. It didn't! It did _not_ do anything of the sort; rather it only proved that the children were quite gifted in the subject!

Hermione dug up the papers of the two students with the highest scores. Lot was proving to be a wonderful student – attentive, polite, and inquisitive. A _very _curious child with enough questions to last her a lifetime. For the life of her, Hermione had a vague impression that she had met someone like Lot, only she couldn't exactly pinpoint who it was… anyway, it didn't matter. She was certain that Ron and Pansy would be ecstatic to learn that their daughter was doing remarkably well in her studies – even if she _was_ sorted to Hufflepuff.

Neil Longbottom was quite a different matter altogether. He was the antithesis to Lot's angelic attitude – he was assertive, proud, and challenging. His voice always carried that superior tone that she'd come to dislike, as it reminded her too much of Malfoy. How _did _Neville and Luna raise him? She made a mental note to owl them some other time. As such, Neil also had his little band of Slytherins that was already proving to be troublesome. But, even she had to admit Neil was a clever little Slytherin, and his grades nearly matching Lot's high marks were a testament to this fact.

Her grumbling stomach reminded her that she'd missed dinner in her haste to know the results of her exam. Grabbing and putting on her robe, Hermione made a beeline to the Great Hall. It wasn't as late as she thought; there were still some fourth and fifth year students roaming the corridors, whereas some sixth and seventh years were still in the dining area. She went straight to the teacher's table where a house elf promptly served her that night's menu.

She was halfway through her meal when she heard the most annoying sound of all – Malfoy's drawl. Hermione kept her eyes on her food, determined not to give the bastard any thought at all, when she heard another annoying sound – a chorus of girlish giggling.

She reluctantly looked up and saw that Malfoy was surrounded by the sixth and seventh year female students from different houses. He sat on the Slytherin table – _where was his manners!_ – and said something that sent the girls into another feverish fit. With the students were several prefects who should be on patrol that night, and Rowena Myers, the Slytherin Head Girl.

And, look, the said student was practically on his lap!

Hermione had suddenly lost her appetite. She stood and marched to her room, praying that Malfoy would be too preoccupied with his merry band of adoring angels to notice her.

But, as luck would have it – at least, her lack of it – that wasn't the case.

"Excuse me, ladies – Granger! _Granger_! Wait the goddamned—"

_That _had her whirling around to face him. "Language, Malfoy! Oh, I swear how on earth you can stomach calling yourself a _professor_ is beyond me."

He only arched an eyebrow. "What's gotten your kni—"

She put her palm on his mouth. "Don't even say it!" Then, realizing what she'd done, she removed her hand and wiped it on his robes. "If you must know, I find it despicable that you're—well, cavorting with—"

"_Cavorting_? I don't even know what that—"

"In full view!" Hermione exploded, waving her hand as emphasis. "You were practically holding Rowena Myers on your lap!"

"Who?"

"As if you don't know!" she scoffed. "The Head Girl!"

Malfoy was silent for a minute, seemingly contemplating, before a malevolent grin erupted on his face. "Dare I say you're jealous?"

"Dare I punch your face in?" she retaliated. "She's practically _half _your age! Have you no shame? No dignity? No morals? Oh wait. No, no you don't."

"Let me get this straight. First, you question me on my teaching methods, now you challenge me on my people-skills?" There was a sudden, notable change in his tone and stance.

But Hermione was way past caring. "People-skills, ha! As if you have any!"

He cocked his head to one side and muttered snidely, "I think I know where this is coming from."

She dared him to continue.

"You've gotten the results, haven't you?" Malfoy said, his grin reappearing. "And…"

"And what?" she snapped.

He started laughing, like her about to beat him to death with her bare hands was _very _funny. "You've proven I'm a better teacher than you are!"

She was left speechless after that. The desire to murder him was so strong, her hands actually itched to close themselves around his throat. But she decided to curb the urges – after all, murder on her record wouldn't be too good. No, no it wouldn't.

Even if it _was _Draco Malfoy she killed. Even if she was, generally speaking, doing the wizarding community some good by eliminating him.

"I didn't prove anything of that sort," she said loudly.

"Really."

"Yes, _really_. Now go back to your room and—shut up, will you! Stop laughing or I'll—"

"What? Hex me? Sometimes, I don't understand how it is you can stomach calling yourself a _professor._" He only smiled largely, especially when he caught her clenched hands. "Oh, Granger, truly you should know you should just give up. Whatever method I use will definitely be better than yours. Even _you _saw to that."

Well, that was a challenge if she'd ever heard one! Hermione only smiled and said, "We'll just wait and see which one of us will be giving up. And I can assure you, it _won't_ be me."

"Hmm. Somehow, I doubt that." Draco dragged a finger down her cheek before sauntering away.

Which left Hermione steaming and stark-raving mad.

_You want a fight? I'll give you a fight, Malfoy._

_And I _never _lose._

_--_

**Author's Notes: **Yeeha! After almost 18 months of being dormant, SiP is active again! And thank you for the reviews:D


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